


Aberration

by Semper_Demon



Category: Original Work
Genre: Asian Character(s), Bisexual Male Character, F/M, Financial Issues, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Minor Character Death, Minor Original Character(s), Mystery, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Police, Racism, Sexist Language, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:34:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26387251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Semper_Demon/pseuds/Semper_Demon
Summary: September 19th. A date that changed everything. Three teens undergo various struggles and life-changing situations, whilst the adults all rush to figure out:"What Happened on September 19th?"





	1. The Meet

1

**_The Meet_ **

_ Seconds tick by as he sits nervously, toying with the beds of his nails--a habit he’s done since childhood. He wasn’t nervous about being in the office, oh no, he was worried that the therapist wouldn’t like him. It was a common pull to have others like him, it made him feel needed. Unlike most office spaces he’s been in, not that he frequents offices, it was actually warm. So he should have felt relaxed, especially with the warm lighting. However, he was still tense and-  _

The door opens _ , spine aflame with tensing muscles as his name was called. He nodded, signifying it was him, a few strands of tawny flopping down on his forehead, but only for a few seconds before being carelessly swept back to a swoop. He stood, lank rising abruptly like a Lovecraftian creature. He casually followed the  _ OTHER _ into a small, meticulously designed space. It appeared as if everything was in just the right way to seem comfortable and natural, however it came off as forced. Trying so hard to seem as natural and normal, his skin crawled as the thought of manipulation pandered into his mind. He had almost missed the gesturing of a pale arm to an almost too-perfect sofa.  _

Oh, so I just sit here? 

Okay. Oh wow this is comfy, way better than my own. 

Huh? Yes, sorry, my name. My name’s Todd, uh Todd-

-Oh no last name? Cool, okay. Right, well, kids used to call me ‘Odd Todd’, some still do...Not really creative...but what can you expect from elementary kids? Um, yeah, just turned seventeen in April. Apparently I share a birthday with some guy named Robin Wright, I don’t know, people like to tell me that. 

Oh shit, sorry. I didn’t know he’s a she. Um, I’m sure she’s great. What’s your name? 

Cool, nice to meet you,  ____ . I’m sure this session will go great. Right so where do we begin? 

My childhood at home, uh I guess I can start there. Um, what exactly am I gonna talk about? 

Oh, okay, thank you.

Alrighty, here we go. When I was younger,  _ my parents, brother and sister and myself lived in the suburbs, just a block or two away from the fairgrounds. It was great! During the summers, before the fair was open we’d go down to the park inside the area. I remember this one time we were on the wooden train ya know? The big one that was always creaking and somehow wet, even if it didn’t rain.  _

_ And I don’t know how I managed to do it, but I ended up on the way top! Sitting on where the smoke comes out, ya know? My parents were screaming at me and calling me an idiot, I couldn’t stop laughing! I felt like I was on top of the world, able to see everything far and wide. Which is funny since I’m scared of heights now… Anyways, my mom was not a fan. She pulled me right off and spanked me. Man that hurt, I can still remember it if I think too hard.  _

Huh? Oh, no, my parents aren’t abusive. God no. My parents believe in capital punishment. I don’t know if it works or not, but I turned out alright.

What’s with the look? It’s true, I’m perfectly normal. Anyways, growing up, I learned from a young age not to mess with my mom, she did not believe in fun. Which was really just me trying to jump off or climb everything I could.

My dad? No, he’s not a scary guy. He cracks shitty jokes-- wait I’m allowed to cuss right?

Okay phew, anyways, my dad is really lighthearted and kind. Doesn’t mean he never hurt me, oh no. That was only when I messed up big time and my mom wasn’t around to whoop my ass. Like the time I pushed my little sister down the stairs--to be fair, she did steal my Pillow Pets! I was only eight but that didn’t mean he was gonna let me push her around, no sir. Now we don’t have any issues. I mean, they are my parents, and I definitely don’t blame them for their decisions. It’s not like they had a choice.

How is that funny?

Yes, I’m being serious. They didn’t have a choice. 

That doesn’t matter. Anyways, my childhood right? What else do you wanna know? 

Okay, um. I don’t really want to talk about school.

I’m serious. Can I please talk about something else?

...Fine, but I’m not sugarcoating it.

The truth, huh? I can tell the truth. The truth is going to school as a kid was shitty and the worst days of my life. And no, I’m not being dramatic. 

_ I started off school like any other kid, excited to see what my older brother got to do. He told me that kindergarten was the best year ever, and I would have so much fun. I remember the night before the first day I couldn’t sleep, I was so excited to go to school. So far all I’ve done in my 5 years of life was be surrounded by my parents and siblings. Only occasionally I would have been around other kids and that was when I went to the park or at the mall where they have the little kids area. Actually that’s not true, there was this one time we went to that one McDonald’s with a playplace in it and I got kicked in the face by another kid. My nose was bleeding and red was everywhere, I paid no mind. _

__ _ I think I only started freaking out after my mom was. It’s like I was supposed to freaking out, but only if others were? If that makes sense? I don’t know, but that was the first time I saw my mom fight with another person besides my dad, and that was the mother of the kid who kicked me.  _

Huh? Oh yeah, I was fine, just a busted blood vessel, but my mom still had that woman pay for my hospital visit. I think that is the earliest memory I have actually. Weird. Anyways, back to school. Sorry about that, I kinda just ramble on from time to time. 

Where was I? Oh yeah.  _ So the first day of school had come, I was dressed up and had my backpack and had Mr. Snuffles with me.  _

Don’t laugh, Mr. Snuffles is a reputable business bunny.

Apology accepted, Now to the story, that you so rudely interrupted to laugh at Mr. Snuffles,  _ I had left with my mom to go to school, sitting in the backseat swinging my legs around. I remember I would point out all the other kids with backpacks I could see. At the time I didn’t know why my mom never responded or why I could hear sniffling, but I know now that she had to have been crying. I was her second baby to start school. When we got there, we took the mandatory first day of school photo, before she took me to my kindergarten class. _

_ I was amazed, there were so many kids and my teacher was a nice, older woman that, at the time, I thought looked exactly like my mom. Besides their petite size and long, black hair, they had nothing in common. I don’t know what was going through my mind but I thought this Latina woman was the same as my pale, white mother.  _

What? Of course I never called her mom, I mean, I knew she wasn’t because how could my teacher be my mom when they were both in the same room. I think I just thought of her as my mom so I wouldn’t miss home as much.

Yeah, I love home. I felt safe and loved at home. And if I remember correctly, my excitement for school was gone when my mom left. 

I’m definitely a mama’s boy. That’s the term right?

Thanks, okay so yeah I have always prefered my mom over my dad, in a non-mean way. When I want something or need to tell a parent something, I tell my mom. And I’m pretty sure I’m her favourite. Or at least I was…

...until  _ this  _ happened.


	2. The Promise

2

**_The Promise_ **

_ ♢ Ollie’s Journal ♢ _

_ Today Is: September 19th _

_ During Calculus today I was suddenly hit with a wave of anxiety. I started thinking about my life and what I wanted to do with myself. I thought about how I have to work a shitty job and just enough hours to be able to pay for all my bills. Bills that I don’t think I should be paying because my parents are supposed to provide for me. I just feel so selfish everytime that thought comes to mind. I know how hard they work and everything costs so much money: _

  * _I need to save for college._


  * I need to save for travelling. 


  * I need to save for bottom surgery and hormone treatment. 



_ I need to save for everything I want to do with my life. But I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. I dont even know how to ask for help to get my life under control... _

_ Do I want to take a gap year? I don’t know.  _

_ Do I want to go to college? I don’t know.  _

_ Do I want to pursue my dream career and be an actress? I have no idea anymore.  _

_ I don’t know what I’m doing or where I’m going or what my plan is. I’m lost. I have no idea what to do for college or what financial aid to apply for or when I should do scholarships or  _ **_anything_ ** _. _

_ My mental state is my biggest issue right now. It’s been deteriorating so quickly and I have a panic attack almost once a week  _ _ as _ _ at this point. I feel so tense and strung up and shaky until I break down and cry. My Depression has crippled me, hindred(?) me from social shit with friends and family.  _

_At my physical this year, back in August, I had finally opened up about it to my doctor. After_ **5 years** _of my parents telling me that we shouldn’t put it on medical forms until it was “confirmed” --but they never,_ ** _ever_** _took me to get it confirmed, just like they haven’t taken me to confirm my dysphoria._

_The doctor gave my mother_ ~~ _recomendations_~~ **_recommendations_** _of therapists I could go to for therapy. So that way every time I’m at work and there is that yellow box cutter next to me I don’t feel like slitting my wrists with it or when I’m driving home late at night I don’t feel the compuls_ ~~ _oin_~~ _(-ion) to veer my car into oncoming traffic or into a ditch or when I go to grab aleve for my migraines and headaches that urge to just swallow a bottle just disappears._

_ And after a month, I still have no help, no therapy, nadda. Just faking it and suppressing my thoughts to the deepest recesses of my consciousness until everything becomes too much and I implode into tears and shakiness and the inability to function like a normal teen. Even screaming for help does nothing, left behind with home remedies and wife's tales. _

_ However, there’s my sister, the one infamous for craving attention and ruining her life. Not only her owns but also every boy she dates. Goind throuhg them like pairs of shoes. She gets all the help. She gets all the attention. She who only continues to lie to my parents and fall into bad habits for the attention. Who my parents support and care for more than me. No matter how good I do on tests, no mater how hard I work for a high grade, how hard I  _ _ desparately _ _ desperately try to win their approval, I’m not good enough for their time of day.  _

_ They try to attend every game they can for her, even though the cheerleaders do the same routine every time but never have time to see the play or musical that I work so hard on. They have enough to pay for her activities, but I’m left on my own and everytime I see my friends with their families and parents after the shows I have to try not to cry because my family doesnt give a rats ass about me except that I pay bills. It appears she is the son they needed, and I am just the sorry excuse that is their daughter, if they could even call me that. _

_ Everytime I try to talk to someone about my struggles or my family I start to cry, It makes me feel weak and like a child that I’m so emotional all the time. I cry so easily. Like my anxiety are the hands that turn on the faucet to my eyes and releases everything. I am lonely.  _

_ Lonely. _

_ Lonely _

_ Lonely _

_ Even though I have my best friends that support me and love me, they can’t  _ **help** _ me. Who am I to think my problems are bigger than  _ **_theirs_ ** _? That my mental state is more important? At least at home I know that I help provide for my family so I should at least get SOME help, but how have I helped my friends?? Todd is suffering at home with his own family shit and abuse. He always manipulates and lies and seems so….DAMAGED! Henry has attempted suicide so many times and is pressured into situations he doesn’t want to because he’s like a doormat and everyone takes advantage of him.  _

__

_ I would rather hurt and suffer alone than to ask friends for help, least of all Todd and Henry. In fact, today it took a lot out of me to say: “Okay, I need to go talk to someone about this”, and of course Mr. Mason wasn’t here today, which was like the universe reinstating my miniscule existence.  _

_ I hate everything about who I am. Why do I have to be the “Trans Kid”. I have no sense of purpose or direction in my life, it’s not fair. The constant urge to just crawl into my bed under the covers in complete darkness and cry is all I feel. I am constantly fighting to just get up and go. To go to school, to go to play rehearsal, to go to work, to live my life. I am barely living as it is, just surviving. I don’t know why my body hasn’t just given up like my mind has. I don’t want to keep on living like this. It would be better if I just didn’t exist. _

_ Sincerely,  _

__ _ Ollie Wen _

\--------------

“Sincerely, Ollie Wen.” The officer spoke aloud, dropping the leather journal back down in the box it came from. There were entries dating back from a year ago, and despite the slightly folded corners and the wearing down of the leather that bounded the book, it remained intact and didn’t need fragile treatment, reasoned the officer.

“Well, it looks like she doesn’t know anything about Todd’s situation, or at least she didn’t write it down in here.” The gruff voice rang, a half-assed laugh forcing itself out. She had already known beforehand that Ollie had no involvement, but superiors wanted to tear down every “lead”. In her eyes, it was the system’s subtle way of trying to pin it on the minorities, again. They see a young, white, straight boy, and can’t fathom why’d he do something so awful, and then see that one of his best friends is a chinese woman, of course that had to be the reason-

“-ut of course you’d say that Gomez- With your latina pride or some other horseshit people are preachin’ these days. The kid’s got motive, he is one of the weirdos afterall. And Oliver’s parents says he’s been acting out lately. Maybe he finally snapped. Besides, who writes down their evil plan so clear for everyone to see? No, kid isn’t stupid, I’ve seen his transcript. Shame he can’t go Ivy League from prison.” 

Of course. Officer MacLeod, the busted up cop whose so close-knit with IA that every charge against him has been dropped. She guessed that's what 20 years as a cop and lots of recognition gets you--immunity from all the illegal things cops do themselves. It's hard to shake this bad apple it seems. Officer Gomez furrowed her brows in unconcealed anger, fists clenching. She let out a small huff, packing up the rest of the evidence collected and shaking her head in outraged disbelief, long black hair falling down over her shoulders from the movements.

“She hasn’t been acting out, and her name is Ollie, not Oliver. If you’re going to be a jackass the least you can do is not be a transphobic one. Besides, isn’t there a spiked coffee with your name on it in the breakroom?” She spat, dark eyes meeting grey ones. Ever since she became a cop, MacLeod had decided that he’d be extra douchebaggy around her, and it was no surprise that he was a zealot. His sneering scoff was all she got in return, rolling his eyes childishly, they both knew she couldn’t do anything about it with IA in his corner. 

“Whatever you say Gomez, I can’t wait to see you grovel at my feet when you realize that special snowflake is just another criminal.” He shouldered passed her, unapologetic. Gomez watched for a brief moment as he left before sighing when the door clicked, rubbing her hands over her face. 

“I cannot lose to that bastard.” She groaned, but straightened out, determination filling her soft features, hardening her face into one of justice. “Don’t worry Ollie, I will make sure Todd pays for his crime.”


	3. Ecstasy

3.

**_Ecstasy_ **

_ Screaming. Blood. Bruises. Tears.  _

_ Henry awoke, lurching upright and heaving, sweat pooling on his brow, though his body shivered from the crisp, freezing air. He checked his phone, squinting as the bright light filled his vision, illuminating his pasty skin.  _ ‘1:03. That’s 30 minutes more than the last time I checked’  _ the 16 year old thought, bittersweet and apathetic. He fell back, arms spread eagle, and stared at the ceiling fan that could barely be seen from the moon hitting a sliver of metal just right. He didn’t know how long he laid there motionless, until he heard his phone buzz, an incessant noise he still couldn’t understand as to why it never woke him. Curiously, he rolled onto his side and checked it, still not used to the bright light but able to make out the words ‘ _ come outside _ ’, from Owen. His curiosity turned into concern.  _ What did he need now? Was he in any danger?  _ He knew that the 20 year old had been getting into ecstasy recently,  _ did he need more money?  _ Henry had a couple of dollars laying around somewhere, he didn’t know how much Owen actually needed, he usually just gave him whatever he had at the time. _

__ _ He rolled out of bed, wincing as his feet hit unforgiving, wood flooring. Not real hardwood, obviously. He heard a rapt at the window, taking no mind to it, ‘ _ Probably the trees _ ’. Devoid of all emotion, he crept across the dark, small room, using the small appearances of moonlight to guide him to his nearly empty inlet closet, a few feet from the edge of his twin size bed. He wiped the sleep from his eyes as he took out a thin, lime green hoodie and put it on. Feeling around in his pockets, he pulled out a wadded up five dollar bill, grinning slightly. ‘ _ Owen is going to be so happy’.  _ He held it close to his chest and let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding, relaxing. He hated seeing Owen upset, especially at him. He remembered the last time that Owen was disappointed in him, those stormy blue eyes so piercing, and he subconsciously gripped the bill tighter. A barely noticeable wince presented itself, but he blamed it on the cool air flowing through his room. Grunting as he bent over, Henry moved his shoes over to his bed, hazel eyes now adjusted to the low light, and sat on the edge, silently putting them on. He picked up his phone again and saw a new text from Owen;  _ ‘look out your window dumbass i know ur awake’. 

_ It clicked in his mind, the rapping from earlier was from Owen, not the trees. Moving warily towards the window, he pushed the cheap curtains away and light filled his vision. He noticed that Owen stood next to the looming childhood tree closest to the window, holding some small objects that Henry assumed were pebbles or rocks. Once he saw his ‘brother’ it was as if he immediately forgot what he was so concerned about, he’d been so distraught throughout the day, but Owen has always made him feel loved and like he belonged, and he was hoping that Owen would make him feel better. He struggled a bit to push the window open, small white paint chips falling onto the floor and the old wood creaked. It wasn’t that big of a space, the window gets jammed about halfway up, but it was big enough for him to sneak out usually. There was one time that Owen had to yank him out of the window. That really hurt, and it made his arms hurt just thinking about it.  _

_ The entire time he pushed out the screen and slid out of the window, the blonde seemed to avoid looking at him, and was oddly silent. Usually Owen would jokingly call him a fairy and to “ _ hurry his weak ass up _ ”, but not tonight.  _

_ Oh no, he watched the news this morning didn’t he? It was broadcasted everywhere, so it wouldn’t be totally unlikely. Just the idea that Owen thought less of him or even blamed him for what Todd did made Henry sick to his stomach, and he was eager to make it up to him--prove that he wasn’t involved at all. By the time he finished putting the screen back on, careful to ensure that no wild animals made a surprise visit like when the times before, the chill of the night was getting to him. But this wouldn’t take long, Owen just needed some money. _

\-------------------

“Are you sure it’s this way?” Henry spoke, filling the brisk air, soft weariness creeping in once more. He rubbed harshly at his eyes, sending away the sleep that was desperately calling for him. It felt like they had been walking for hours, in the dead of night and still no way to see besides the dim flashlight that Owen held and the tiny bit of moon not shielded by the tall, dark trees that surrounded them. It was so dark outside, the trees looked almost like they were cut out of reality, besides the occasional scratch from branches on his arms or face. He shivered, wearing nothing but the thin clothes and flip flops, making him prepared for being outside for about five minutes, not traveling to wherever he was being led to. Owen said he had to show him something right away, and didn’t let him go back inside to grab his phone, so he was stuck with standing awkwardly close to Owen so he won’t get lost, and trying not to trip or hurt himself.

“Of course I’m sure, I’ve lived here all my life. I’m a trustworthy person, Jones.” Henry chilled at Owen’s tone, flinching out of his thoughts, as if he was shot by those words. He knew that Owen was upset at him, he never called him Jones unless he was really upset, and one day Henry asked him why and Owen just nonchalantly said: “I don’t feel like your brother when you do shit like this so that’s why I call you Jones, so you know that you’re not family right now.” and it made Henry feel even worse than when he first left the window. On a normal day he’d be apologizing for his own incompetence, try to be better and a worthy brother for Owen, but he was so sleep deprived, freezing and just felt like screaming, not apologizing. Not to mention Owen kept looking at him weirdly and somehow apologizing made it feel like it would be worse than not saying anything. 

At least they weren’t walking in silence. Besides the constant bugs chirping and the wind pushing the leaves together, that is. The absence of Owen teasing him made him really upset, but at last Owen was talking to him, even if it was brief and about where they were heading. Up until now, it hadn’t really bothered him, being outside that is. He couldn’t sleep anyways, so there was no reason to lay in bed and pretend. Plagued thoughts haunted him with what happened, with Todd. He was there. They skipped school together, and he witnessed it all. Every gruesome detail. Every drop of blood, falling in slow motion and splattering like paint on a canvas. He couldn’t put his mind to rest. Unable to close his eyes without flashes of the police officers, or the screaming witnesses…

“Well we just passed that same tree three times in a row.” He couldn’t help but respond, arms crossing over his chest to keep warm, goosebumps littering his skin, but his stiffening figure and suspicious glancing around betrayed him. He avoided eye contact and couldn’t help but think the worst of Owen. ‘No, that’s ridiculous, Owen would never hurt me or abandon me.’

“I know, Henry. I know.” Came the response, bemused and knowing. Owen stopped, turning to grin at Henry, as if he played the biggest practical joke. He still couldn’t tell where he was, how far he was in the woods, or where they were going.

“Huh…” he trailed off with a nervous laugh, turning around in circles, trying to make sense of what was happening, utterly confused and his face contorted to show it, mouth agape as he tried to strew some sort of sentence together. “-Owen what’s going on? Is this about the news this morning? I’m telling you, I didn’t have anything to do with it! Please believe me.” Pleads fell from his lips onto deaf ears, cerulean eyes boring into him, seemingly unaffected and unbelieving of anything that Henry spoke. It appeared that no matter what he tried, nothing could make Owen’s opinion of him any better, so he gave up.

Shoulders slumping, Henry lost all energy to keep trying, and instead hung his head, tearing at his bottom lip with his teeth, just enough to taste a bit of iron, but not enough to break the skin and bleed. “I’m just gonna head home.” As he turned to walk back, moving past Owen, he felt an iron-tight grip suddenly on his arm and he turned towards the older confused. The flashlight was turned away, not allowing Henry to gauge Owen’s face. But judging by how hard the other was squeezing, he wasn’t happy. “Ow, Owen you’re hurting me- let go!” He squirmed, trying to break out of the grasp but couldn’t. “Seriously, let go of me.”

“You see, I don’t think I will.” Owen somehow managed to tighten his grip impossibly so, and Henry let out some noises he wasn’t proud of, tears sprigging in his eyes. “When they said that I had to do this, I really couldn’t, at first. I mean, you’re my brother. But after what I saw this morning? It’s like I hardly know ya, which makes this decision easier. Thanks for fucking up.” His voice was cold, detached, and it made him shiver. It’s like he didn’t even recognize him, so different from the usual Owen he knew.  _ They? Who is ‘They’? _

His question was soon answered when he heard footsteps approaching, and Owen lifted the flashlight to illuminate where the opposing light was coming from. At first he could only make out three figures appearing like some sort of bad scary movie, but putting together some context clues and recognizing the guy in the middle from the newspaper, he knew he was fucked. There stood The Sheriff, notorious for his empire of sex trafficking and leader of a drug ring, infamous for being so interconnected in the legal system that he has never been persecuted, no matter what. Henry could only assume that the two on his side were Vixen and Cleaver - both known for their torturing styles and disposal methods and The Sheriff’s number 2’s. He realised that saying this out loud to someone would sound like he’s describing some sort of crime TV show with a bad character development, but that just makes it a thousand times more terrifying. Knowing that people so bad they could only be in TV shows exist in the real world? He resisted struggling, but his heart betrayed him. He was petrified with fear, and anyone in their right mind would be as well. Owen had started dragging him towards the trio and at that point he realized he needed to get out of here, like now.

Owen’s grip loosened as if he was passing him over to the others like a piece of meat. Without thinking, Henry slammed his elbow back into Owen’s stomach, relishing in the grunt he caused. He felt the grip on his arm loosened and took the chance to book it, sandals flopping around and hoodie strings slapping in the air. He felt his ankle roll, causing him to stumble, hitting a tree and scraping his palms as he tried to stay upright, but the fear and adrenaline kept him going. “Get back here!” He heard a feminine shrill through the howling wind, but from the sound of blood pumping and his hyperventilating, he couldn’t distinguish if it was Vixen or Cleaver. Tears started to gather and he blinked them away, blurring his vision. At one moment in the chase he realized he had lost his flip flops, and felt every rock and stick that stabbed and sliced into his soles, but refused to stop running. Being involved with The Sheriff was serious, and he knew what they were going to do with him, he’s heard the stories. Owen probably did something to piss him off and gave him up to pay the debt. ‘ _ How did Owen even manage to get involved with him?’ _ Impossibly, he was more terrified than ever as he imagined the spilling of blood and guts and what they do to- he shuddered, unable to finish his thought as he ran through the dying woods, unable to see anything besides blurring moonlight and moving shadows from tree branches. 

He slowly came to a stop, feet burning as they dug into the wet dirt to hold himself up. Small pricklings of relief flooded him as he realised he couldn’t hear them anymore or see the flashlight as he turned around, but he refused to give into a false sense of security. He wasn’t going to be lured like the dumb blondes in horror movies. Instead, he turned back to the way he was running, pushing the honey brown strands of hair out of his face and pushed on, despite cringing as his toes squelched in the mud. His body was screaming at him to stop; lungs choking on dusty air, skin freezing in the crisp night, bones aching from extraneous movement… His ankle pain was catching up to him and he made it about another thirty feet, limping the entire time, before he was forced to stop, stumbling before doubling over to catch his breath and fight through his fatigue. He was suddenly blinded by a beaming light and deafened by the sound of a horn, and he looked up, moving his arms to cover his ears as he fell back on his ass. His eyes adjusted to the blinding light and he realised a car zoomed past him. 

During his run he hadn’t noticed that he had run out of the woods and into the road. Making this discovery, he was filled with newfound determination, coming to terms that this was his one chance to make it out of this alive and one piece. Hugging his arms around his chest to keep warm, he started making way down the road, following the street lamps that seemed to be so haphazardly placed that he could only be illuminated for a small while before being plunged into darkness again. He had no idea where he was or where he was headed, only that he passed four street lamps before he saw another car. This time he was ready, moving out and into the light and the road- waving his arms as high as he could. “Hey! Stop! Please I need help!” He yelled out, straining. The car seemed to notice him, thank the lord it wasn’t someone texting and driving, because it seemed to slow, until it came to a stop just a few feet in front of him. 

“Oh thank god, you have to help me! They’re chasing me! They’re gonna- Oh god they’re gonna-” He cut off with a shudder, panting and trying to keep the fatigue from running and preset hypothermia. For a moment, nothing happened. The car just sat there, running, as he was catching his breath. Henry couldn't make out the shadowy figure over the bright beam of headlights, but let out the breath he was holding when the drivers side door opened, and the figure stepped out. Too busy focusing on trying to get a good look at who his saviour was, he didn’t notice another figure emerging from the passenger side. “Are you, are you going to help me?” He hoped his voice didn’t come across as pathetic, even though that was exactly as he was feeling. Weak and pitiful, like a tiny kitten.

“Oh, we’ll help ya.” Came a cold, sickening response, followed by deep, knowing chuckle. Henry suddenly lost his ability to stand on his wobbly legs as every ounce of terror reflooded his body, knees scraping and fat tears streaming down his face, breathing becoming laboured and he hiccuped, begging over and over for them to just let him go and that he wouldn’t tell anyone, desperately trying to find the ability to stand up once more, pleading to not hurt him. The word ‘please’ seemed to be getting weirder and weirder as it rolled off his tongue.

His rambling was cut off by The Sheriff crouching down in front of him, a hunting knife in hand, his signature weapon. “What’s your name again kid, Henry is it? Normally I’d let the innocent ones go, ya know? Just kill off the client that couldn’t pay up and use ‘em as a warning to others, like Owen you see, he’s just over there.” He gestured over to where Owen stood awkwardly by the car, avoiding eye contact. Henry’s hope was up at first, flaring and he stopped crying, but was immediately crushed as The Sheriff continued, “-But you’re not innocent, are ya? Don’t bother lyin’, I watch the news like any good samaritan.”

“I didn’t do it!” He cried out instinctively, not expecting the sudden blow to his head to follow. The Sheriff had decked him with the butt of the knife, and Henry’s head dripped blood down the side of his face, instinctively whimpering in pain and started silently crying again.

“I didn’t say you could speak.” Spat the response, dead serious and angry. All sense of safety was gone. The older man rose easily, free hand fisted in Henry’s hair and yanked the teen to his feet, causing him to wince in pain and stand on unstable legs. “Now, this is normally the part where I’d cut the shit out of you for that disrespect...but you’ve got a bangin’ face, I’m sure you know what comes next, boy.” That signature sneer was illuminated in the street light. The one he always saw on the reports, which was a thousand times scarier in person.

Immediately Henry started fighting, screaming bloody murder and landing a hit or two on his attacker. The Sheriff responded by getting Vixen and Cleaver to grab hold of him, keeping him in place as he sobbed and screamed. Normally, two strong women holding him would make his day, but in this instance it was his worst nightmare. Then came the fist to his gut, knocking all the air out of him and he choked and gagged, body crumpling as much as it freely could in the irontight hold he was in. It seemed no matter how much he struggled, the torturers’ arms around him weaved like constrictors, ready to swallow him whole.

“You really fucked yourself now, Henry. I’m done playing nice.” He whistled, beckoning his head towards the running vehicle behind him. “Car, now.” He demanded, one last fighting attempt rising out of Henry as the two torturers dragged him, seemingly unbothered, to the back of the surprisingly small but luxurious car. 

The Sheriff turned to face Owen, who had stood there, stunned into silence and out of sight from Henry, who was forced into the back of the car. “And you, It’s been a while since I’ve had a screamer, and as much fun I’m gonna have breakin’ him, you… you’re a loose end. You really need to do your homework, boy.” Before Owen could say anything, The Sheriff had already struck-- delving his knife deep into his stomach and twisting, grinning like a cheshire cat as he gutted the 20 year old. He pulled back sharply, wiping the blood off on Owen’s shirt, and ignoring the betrayed gaspings of the dead man as he fell to his knees and instead, settling on kicking Owen so he rolled straight into the dip in the woods before returning to his car, leaving him forgotten to the world. Henry’s screams turning to hoarse pleas that became louder and louder, despite being soft, as he drew near. “Ready to have some fun?” He asked rhetorically, laughing at the utter fear Henry exuded. 

Henry was tied up tightly, mouth suddenly stuffed with some sort of gag that quieted his pathetic noises and he had no way of escaping. No way of being saved. Nothing. And when he was forced to be next to his soon to be torturers? He almost had a heart attack. 

His dissociation started happening about fifteen minutes into the car ride. He was numb, already giving up on fighting. Eyes tired from crying. What made it worse was that he felt comfortable, physically. Vixen had covered him with a blanket, made him drink water, even wrapped his ankle in a bandage. But then his thoughts caught up to him, making him think about everything that happened today.  _ What time was it? How long had he been out here? _ The sun was still down and there was little to no vehicles on the highway, but it felt like it had been ages. He peeked over at the time on the car’s clock, ‘ _ 2:17’ _ . It was official, September 19th is the worst day of his life. If he even had a life at all, after this. 


End file.
